Tapestry
by one four two nine seven eight
Summary: When Malfoy comes to Ron to propose a deal, Ron must decide where his loyalties really lie.
1. Ron

-Tapestry-  
  
  
  
A/N - This is warped. And not in my usual way, either. My first posted piece of Potter Fiction, though it isn't about Harry save for being mentioned a few times in passing. Malfoy/Ron slash, my absolute favorite coupling ever, and the rating might be a bit harsh for advertising purposes *_* This will be continued whether or not it is liked; however, reviews are always appreciated!  
  
  
  
***  
  
Surprisingly enough, it was Malfoy who proved most helpful. Though he swore he had no ulterior motives, I knew he'd been keeping an eye on Harry-for what reason, however, I don't know. I recognized his interest in Harry, yet Malfoy still surprised me when he approached me in a courtyard during our free hour.  
  
The stone gargoyle is where I often go to think. It's a monstrous marble thing set off in a corner beside an enchanted rose bush. Because of its wings, there's a secluded nook that's perfect for escaping my problems for at least a few minutes between Defense Against the Dark Arts and Advanced Transfigurations. I've a knack for changing things into other things. I guess I'm even better than Fred and George by now.  
  
But I was at the gargoyle.  
  
By pushing against the ridge which runs down its spine at the base of its tail, I can lean quite contently against the cold stone for hours-or until they call us in again for class.  
  
Malfoy found me before I even knew he was looking; his voice, like the rest of him, was silvery and smooth with a trace of disliking for whatever he spoke of. As was usual when he spoke of me, the loathing was apparent; I must be the one thing he dislikes most of all.  
  
"Weasley," he nearly purred, stepping up and onto my gargoyle's fat and curling tail. I rolled my eyes, attempting a casual disinterest.  
  
"What is it now?" I crossed my arms over my chest and stifled the urge to growl. "You want to make it even more obvious for the others that we could hardly afford school books again this year? Go ahead, Malfoy, I dare you." He raised his eyebrows into the loose strands of his hair; I couldn't tell if he was insulted or impressed with my outburst.  
  
"Actually," he murmured smoothly, "I was going to invite you to lunch."  
  
***  
  
It was odd enough that Draco Malfoy had invited a Weasley-any Weasley-to dine with him, but what I found even more odd was that I joined him willingly at the shadowed end of a table that noon.  
  
He was, as he had been earlier, toying with a small something in a pocket of his robes, and eating with his other hand. His grey eyes remained fixed on me, making me feel extremely nervous but to my advantage, however, as all sorts of odd little ideas flitted through my mind. When he spoke it was with all seriousness, though it was not his usual, casual icy drawl. He seemed today a bit nervous yet still in control of every move made and word spoken.  
  
"Ron," he said hesitantly, which was startling and refreshing after being called Weasel for so very long. "I have a deal I'd like to make with you."  
  
Sensing he wasn't about to curse me or mock me in any way, I said, "What's that?"  
  
He paused, biting his lip in an action which was very much not a part of Malfoy's suave, sophisticated manner. "Well, I..." His eyes trailed from mine as a hand clamped down on my shoulder-it was Hermione, looking rather miffed that I was consorting with a sworn enemy like Malfoy.  
  
He straightened up, his eyes adopting their hard silver glint I had been expecting back on the lawn. "Well, Weasel, the day I give you the answers to a Potions exam is the day I become a prefect of Gryffendor." He glanced at me, apologizing with his eyes as he swept off to finish his lunch with his house.  
  
Hermione was less than pleased with me and she told me off properly.  
  
"What in Heaven's name do you think you're doing? Cheating on any exam is terrible, but I thought you would have more common sense than this! Trying to get the answers to one of Snape's exams from a Slytherin? And not just any Slytherin-a Malfoy? Y'know, Ron, sometimes you can be so stupid!"  
  
She flounced off before I could say anything, joining Neville and a large stack of books at the next table over. She was tutoring him, though anyone could tell her as well as I that it would take a lot more than shoving a load of books into his grasp to help him in a class like Potions.  
  
I was puzzled about what sort of deal exactly Malfoy was trying to make with me. He slipped me a note as we spilled out of the Great Hall which instructed me to meet him at the end of a corridor near to where my Herbology class was held. I was to wait next to the tapestry after my lesson. I could only wait after that.  
  
***  
  
The tapestry was very large and very ugly. It seemed to be rotting from the bottom hem up, and mold spread over the sparkling threads which came together in a tranquil scene of unicorns and eagles and a sort of wild dog which reminded me very much of Hagrid's Fang. I waited for what seemed like half an eternity, always watching for a trick or something lain out by Malfoy. I had begun to eye the dog-things when he came, panting, down the corridor. He was flushed and, needless to say, completely unlike any side of Malfoy I have ever seen in all the time I've known him. He grinned broadly at me as he came to a stand-still in front of me.  
  
After a moment leaning on his knees and breathing hard, he stood up, smoothed his hair back, and glanced over his shoulder. Then he drew closer, standing right beside me, and, hardly moving his mouth, said in a hushed tone, "The very walls have ears. Follow me, but don't let's make this place known." He beckoned me to follow with a swift movement of his hand, and disappeared behind the decaying tapestry.  
  
I hesitated a full moment before following. All of this seemed so out of character for Malfoy, who was usually at this moment taunting some poor first-year with their decrepit hand-me-down book or robe or wand. It struck me as odd that he would so suddenly attempt to form an alliance with me. What did he want of it?  
  
I glanced down the long stretch of corridor before ducking behind the tapestry.  
  
It was one of many secret passages through the walls of the school. Fred and George had probably been here within their first week of classes, but I decided not to tell Malfoy this. He seemed to have enough on his plate at the moment. The passage was very dark and very damp, but he muttered a few words under his breath and a small silver flame appeared in the palm of his hand. He tossed the flame at the wall, and a stone pulled itself from its setting and became a sort of shelf for the light.  
  
"I brought you here because I think that I can trust you, Weasley," he said, reminding me of who I was dealing with. "I think that you won't tell all of the rest of this place what will-hopefully-be mentioned between us over time."  
  
His eyes were by this time very large and sparkling, excited by the prospect he was about to expose for me. He bit his lip again and it seemed for a moment he was going to squeal or giggle. The look he gave me was very similar to one which Ginny expresses when she wants something from me.  
  
"Ron, tell me if I'm ever wrong when I assume things about you." I nodded, shrugged, and watched him as he did a sort of sidestep to avoid a very small beetle on the floor. He waited until it had disappeared into the shadows beyond the reach of his conjured flame and then looked at me again.  
  
"You have never experienced power, Ron," he told me, not unkindly. "You have never experienced wealth or respect in the way that I as a Malfoy have." He smiled in a manner so unlike the slick, smooth, deceptive bully he often was that I shivered, the hairs at the back of my neck prickling.  
  
The silence was unbearable. "So what?" I prompted, "So what if I haven't? What's it got to do with anything?"  
  
"I can help you achieve these things," he sparkled, his eyes growing even wider. "I can give these to you on a silver-no, gold-platter, Ron." I thought his face would split under the pressure of his smile. "But, like everything in this life, it has its price."  
  
I began to wonder what I had that he hadn't. I began to try to think up things that he should want from me, but I could think of none.  
  
"You don't know what I want in return, do you, Weasley? You don't know what I could possibly need from you so terribly badly?" I shook my head slowly. There was something definitely odd about this picture...  
  
"You have never beheld material wealth, Ron," he repeated, giving me another chance. Then, so slowly he should have burst, he said, "And I have never known the powers of love. Please say you'll do it, Ron. Please say that you'll make the deal." The sparkle continued, but it was now pleading with me.  
  
"Teach me to love, and I promise you all the riches of this world, Ron."  
  
I considered all of this for all of about one moment before answering.  
  
"You've got to hold up your end of this," I said slowly. He beamed, and held out his hand for me to shake.  
  
"A Malfoy never goes back on his word."  
  
***  
  
Hermione still wasn't speaking to me the next day, but it really wasn't much of a loss. We've never really gotten along very well, as anyone could tell you. Fred and George often tease me about liking her, which is completely the opposite. At my age, if I like a girl, I don't pretend to hate her.  
  
On the contrary, Malfoy was actually somewhat civil to us all. He continued to press Harry's patience, however, which was expected of him, and send Snape after Hermione's perfect grades, but to me he was as a guardian angel is to his charge. And amidst his generous gestures towards me, he still managed the pretense that we were as unfriendly as we had always been.  
  
It was during breaks from class, early mornings, and late evenings that he showered me with attention and gifts. It did not even seem to anger or shock him that I had yet to hold up my end of our little bargain. Supposedly the little things he gave me were those I had been lacking in his life until now, but they were all a bunch of silly toys I could have done without. However, as was usual with any Malfoy, the trinkets he lavished upon me were without any doubt expensive.  
  
After lunch on a Thursday, he cornered me in a secluded corridor with glittering eyes.  
  
"I've brought you something," he said, his hand submerged in the pocket of his robes. "I've been working on it for some time now, with help from Professor Flitwick and a seventh year Ravenclaw girl." He produced a small black box with a velvet, blood-red ribbon fastened around its lid and handed it to me without another word.  
  
Still not used to this gentle, innocent side of Malfoy, I studied it cautiously for a long and silent moment before he huffed out his breath and rolled his eyes.  
  
"Come off it, Ron, I'm not going to curse you," he scoffed. "Just open it, would you?" So I opened the weighted box wordlessly and took out-  
  
"A-a snowglobe?" It was, indeed, a snowglobe-one of those Muggle novelty glass domes with a tiny scene inside that, when shaken, produced the effect of snow drifting lazily onto Muggles skating on a frozen lake or something equally as ridiculous-and the tiny town within was light and sparkling, with tiny snowflakes falling onto the quiet village and Muggles strolling the streets. And then I noticed that the minute people within were actually moving and interacting.  
  
"An enchanted snowglobe," Malfoy corrected me, looking quite pleased with himself. Careful not to disturb the tranquil scene, I replaced the globe within its box and closed the lid. The light from inside continued to shine from an artificial sun set in the dome somewhere.  
  
"It's lovely." He sparkling even more, terribly pleased that he had done something so marvelous for me. It would have been more marvelous had it been given to Harry, who was used to the Muggles' tendency for useless decorations and knick-knacks. "Er-Malfoy, I haven't exactly been given the opportunity to do what I'm expected in this deal..." His expression of pure joy did not shift in the least.  
  
"That's all right. You'll make up for it later; I have complete faith in you."  
  
An enormous weight seemed to have lifted from my shoulders. "Good." Then, a repressed idea flickered through my mind. "Ah-I did, actually, have a thought the other day while I was trying to sneak the answers to the Divination homework the other night." Malfoy beamed. "She's a Hufflepuff- cute girl-eyes like a pixie's and hair-I'd have to point her out to you at supper or something..."  
  
His face fell. Apparently, I had missed the point of finding him the love he had been denied, because he put his hand on my shoulder as he shook his head.  
  
"Weasley," he said, hesitating. "Ron." I was dumbfounded as he took his hand away again, bit his lip, and nearly whimpered into his hand. "I'm afraid you've got this a bit-confused."  
  
Confused? How...?  
  
"Y'see," he continued on, ignoring the puzzled look on my face, "When I said I wanted you to teach-to find-me love, I thought you knew..." His brow furrowed heavily, a pained look crossed his face. Then he scowled. "Oh, Weasley-You honestly can't tell me that you've never seen the way I look at- " Again, he paused, this time glancing nervously around before finishing smoothly, "-at Harry?"  
  
Though this caught me as a very gauche statement to have been uttered by a Malfoy, I was not totally surprised by it. Truly I had not seen the way he claimed he looked at Harry, but it did make sense that Draco would be taken by him. He was, after all, sought after by my only sister and that nuisance Colin Creevey; he, indeed, was near the top of the class and had earned more points for Gryffendor than anyone else in at least a century. In fact, now that the thought had been introduced to my mind, he did have those piercing green eyes and such perfect pale skin...  
  
"I see."  
  
If I hadn't known any better, I would have said that Malfoy's world had just collapsed onto itself in his mind. He drew himself away from me- apparently he thought that I was some sort of homophobe-and so, without thinking, I reached over and pulled him into an awkward hug. Awkward because of the nature of the gesture, as opposed to me being worried I would be the newest object of his affections, but after a moment it became a very natural sort of thing for us, as though we should have thought to exchange an embrace sooner.  
  
"Thanks," he whispered, and we pulled away enough for me to see the tears trickle from the corner of his eye. With a weak smile, he turned away, wiping his eyes, and disappeared around the corner.  
  
*** 


	2. Draco

- Tapestry -  
  
A shorter chapter than the last, as well as a change of pace. Draco's point of view this time - loads of fun to be behind the eyes of a witty semi- villain. Review, please, it keeps my moral up; but a lack thereof will not influence the length of time before the next chapter, so no pressure! ^_^  
  
***  
  
As he ignored Hermione's nagging at his ear, Harry added a bit of an ingredient to the potion which frothed in his cauldron. His hand, in a movement so simple that it was rarely noticed, took the end of the ladle on the table and stirred the thick liquid lethargically. In the flickering candlelight his pale skin appeared a golden yellow, his flashing green eyes appeared amber flecked with emerald; his unruly hair was tarnished brass.  
  
Hermione continued to nag. Nearby, Ron coughed an inappropriate joke as the professor turned his back to examine Neville's errors. Harry snickered along, his face creasing into a broad smile. At the next table, Seamus and Dean caught wind of the joke, and they, too, sniggered into their cauldrons.  
  
I, on the other hand, had not heard the joke. I was across the room, hidden in a back corner between the mountainous and hairy Crabbe and Goyle. They snorted and spat into their potions, causing the liquid to steam and boil angrily. I rolled my eyes in the perfected bored expression, and once more turned my attention to the dark-haired boy across the room.  
  
To Hermione's chagrin, Harry followed her advice and added a pinch more of this or that, and his cauldron began bubbling madly, frothing and spitting at him. He flinched, Hermione blushed, and I smiled slightly.  
  
Snape slid past, ignoring my potion completely but murmuring, "Keep your eyes on your own cauldron, Draco." Shivers ran down my spine. He knew what I had been watching. He knew it was not another cauldron I was gazing at so adoringly.  
  
Snape knows about my wanting of Harry; he is more than head of the house or a professor to me. He is my mentor, and I know that he has been where I am now.  
  
In one of our lengthy conversations in the common room after hours, he told me of a time when he was quite taken by a boy called James - James Potter, Harry's dad, ironically enough. Unfortunately, James was already claimed by a girl by the name of Lily - and therefore was off limits to my mentor Snape. It would sting more than any of the barbs of plants in Sprout's greenhouses if Harry turned up with a girlfriend.  
  
Instead of watching my potion, I found myself daydreaming, to be shaken by the amused gaze of Ron, who was chuckling into his cauldron amidst long glances in my direction. I flashed a Malfoy grin and, embarrassed, turned to the cauldron at my elbow.  
  
***  
  
Despite the perfectly marvelous selection of food at my bidding, I was not hungry. I barely touched the delicious spread in front of me, my gaze instead locked on the redhead two tables over. He was, as usual, sitting with Hermione, Neville, and - be still, my aching heart - Harry. And despite my usual habit of watching Harry discretely from behind my breakfast, I was not watching him - my gaze, as I mentioned a moment ago, was locked on Ron, and was not about to move.  
  
As owls swooped and dove across the tables, one in particular caught my eye, diverting my attention from the redhead. Black and malevolent, this particular bird was dyed a deep blue, and its eyes were round and unblinking and rich amber. It paused over the Gryffendor table presently, and dropped into the lap of Ron Weasley a charcoal parchment tied with a blood red ribbon.  
  
He took it in his hands hesitantly, as though he had no idea who had sent such a thing to him. I smirked, hidden by a glass pitcher half-full of pulpy orange pumpkin juice. Then he read the tag, and his pale eyes met mine with a look of thanks. He seemed to know what was in this letter, though I had not told him ahead of time.  
  
Hermione scowled at the package, while Harry encouraged Ron to open it. Ron listened to neither, and, instead, tucked the parchment into one of many pockets in his robes.  
  
The owl, having carried out its mailing duties, dropped from the air and onto my shoulder; I cooed at him and gave him a reward of sausage and a bit of orange marmalade. The owl had been a Christmas present from my father, who had been trying to buy me off since I was born, it seemed; I had named the bird Sykes and kept close watch on him ever since. Though I rarely sent anyone anything by owl (to whom would I send anything?), Sykes came in handy in occasions such as that darling redhead two tables over.  
  
After the meal, he caught me as I took a secluded hallway away from the Great Hall. I had sent Crabbe and Goyle away; they tended to be more of a nuisance than helpful, and I had known Ron would catch up with me after receiving my gift.  
  
"Malfoy - " he gasped, shaking the scroll under my nose. " - this can't be - it isn't - " His eyes widened as I nodded, smile tickling my lips. "Oh, God." He turned away, holding the parchment as though it was treasure, and I thought he was worried about being caught with Snape's next exam - including the answers - in his hands.  
  
"Ron, he won't catch you," I reassured him, "And by some chance he does catch you - well - just leave that to me." He didn't answer, and I thought he would hand it back and leave if he was that upset over it all.  
  
Instead, when he turned back, he caught me off guard by pinning me to the cold stone walls in a celebratory embrace. Not only was I not in the position to move, but also I had no intention of doing so. It had been a long while since I had experienced any human contact aside from the scrapes which broke out between Potter and myself, and this sort of attention was much more welcome.  
  
While my mind drifted on thoughts of contact with Harry, Ron bubbled over with laughter, pulled away, and yelped happily into the echoing halls. It was as though a switch went off in his head, then, and suddenly he was very silent and had tucked the scroll back into his robes.  
  
Solemnly, he addressed me. "Malfoy - " He saw me wince and corrected himself - "Draco, I have not been keeping up my side of this in the least." He wouldn't let me interrupt, not even to object to his apologies. "No, really - you've been sending me things - things like this - and I've done nothing for you!" He looked at me thoughtfully for a long moment.  
  
"Give me twenty-four hours," he said, holding up his hand. "In twenty-four hours, I will have him for you - behind the tapestry. Be there at seven tomorrow night, and I promise you, I will have done it all for you."  
  
I hesitated before agreeing. To be honest, as hard as that is for me, I had actually been enjoying giving Ron all sorts of little trinkets and baubles. I had adored seeing his face light up when he saw the next expensive present I'd sent him. If having Harry meant losing that small joy - then I didn't want him.  
  
That thought alone startled me. Me, a Malfoy - Draco Malfoy - take back his want for something - someone? It was most unbecoming of me. What was I thinking?  
  
I shook all of this aside and smiled for Ron. "Yeah, I'll be there at seven." He beamed.  
  
"Good." As he turned away, checking to be sure of the presence of the parchment in his robe pockets, he flashed a grin over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Malfoy."  
  
***  
  
At breakfast the next morning, it did not seem as though Ron had attempted to seduce Harry for me. As harsh as it may sound, that is exactly what the redhead was brought into this plan to do - but he didn't seem at all interested in doing it.  
  
At lunch, as well, Harry was acting just as normal as ever, and even Ron was acting a bit more relaxed than I remember ever having seen him in the past while interacting with Harry. Hermoine, to my surprise, did not find this suspicious. I can only assume that in his state of bliss and relief, Ron had made amends with her, and they were pleasant towards one another as they went about their business.  
  
Latin, however, proved somewhat unusual. Halfway through the lesson, a ball of paper bounced onto my desk, and I pulled it into my pocket before the professor could see. I had long since learned not to test professors who were impartial to Slytherins in general - Snape was enough leverage for me to perform my miracles within the school. Once the paper was in my pocket, however, I began unrolling it as quietly as possible.  
  
Once opened, I read it while pressing it to my lap - it was a note from Ron, written in Latin. I smiled; I was teaching him the art of cunning and the trait of wit. The note, in brief, told me that everything was as smooth as silk, with no hitches anywhere; the plan would continue as I had originally thought. In just a few short hours, I would have him. I'd finally have Potter.  
  
I was beginning to get nervous.  
  
*** 


	3. Intermission

- Tapestry -  
  
  
  
Back again for more? Not much more to see . . . Third person, now - and, yes, seem as it may that Ron and Draco will never find one another in all this, look harder - and you may see where I've been going for the past two chapters . . . Ah, yes, and it does get a bit fluffy toward the end, just to warn you.  
  
***  
  
The corridor was completely void of all things living; only the paintings on the walls moved with their usual evening activities. The rotting green and gold tapestry hung over the passage on the wall as it always had, and as Draco Malfoy approached, he was trembling with anxious energy.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder before brushing the heavy tapestry aside and sweeping silently into the cavernous tunnel through the wall. It was dark and molding and cold, void of light and, it seemed, without Harry Potter.  
  
Draco kept close to the entrance, peering into the inky shadows, straining his eyes against the pitch black of it all. His nerves were getting the best of him, despite his usual collected demeanor.  
  
"R-Ron?" he whispered; his voice echoed off the walls. He hadn't remembered there being an echo in this tunnel. Something down the tunnel clattered, and he straightened himself, pressing his back to the wall. "Ron? Is that you?" Again, he attempted to see through the murky darkness. "Harry?"  
  
A small light flickered into existence on the end of a wand a few feet away from Draco, and his eyes widened as the piercing green eyes he so longed for came into view. His breath caught in his throat as the wizard stepped closer, casting a spell similar to that which Draco himself had performed when he had first brought Ron here.  
  
Harry Potter hesitated before Draco, shaking his unruly bangs away from his eyes in the dancing light of a blue flame. The blond did not step forward; for once in his life, he was intimidated by the concept of having what he wanted. Harry smiled slightly, his gaze leaving Draco's for a moment in a very shy reaction.  
  
Then, in a very liquid movement, he was pressing the blond against the clammy wall, his lips dancing over Draco's in chaste kisses. Malfoy was in heaven, his palms pressed to the brunette's, his platinum hair twisting into the combined brown and bronze and black of Harry's. His hand moved without his bidding to the back of Potter's neck, toying with the collar of his robes, and it felt - a seam was off.  
  
It was as though the robe had torn at one point or another, and someone very inexperienced with a needle and thread had attempted to repair it. Draco pulled away, a bemused look settling onto his features. Harry blanched severely, and backed away a step.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
But Harry was gone, the tapestry waving slightly from side to side from the dark-haired boy bolting out of the secret passage, and Draco was left very puzzled indeed.  
  
***  
  
Moaning Myrtle was his only company that evening. He had settled onto the tank of a toilet in the middle of the row in the abandoned girl's bathroom, his shoes pushing against the seat to keep him in a sitting position. It seemed that hearing him sniffle through his tears caused Myrtle to be a bit brighter than usual - though she did seem earnestly sympathetic toward him.  
  
The potion had been easy enough - it had seemed like such a clever idea - Hermione had enough bubbling in the cauldron that she wouldn't have noticed one small goblet taken from it - getting a bit of hair from Harry's comb had been easiest of all -  
  
But the polyjuice potion only lasted one hour, and he had spent too much of his hour idly waiting Draco's appearance behind the tapestry. How stupid had he been to take it just before half past six? Ten 'til seven he should have taken the draught, then he could still be with Malfoy . . .  
  
Then again, he told himself, he had to have been fairly stupid to have fallen for the boy to begin with. Of course it was after he knew of Malfoy's pining for his supposed best friend that his mind decided to turn against him like this.  
  
And he supposed that Draco would have followed him - realized he wasn't really Harry - know he was bawling like a baby in a girl's bathroom - sneer and poke fun at the poor Weasel, too poor to even afford to express his own feelings to another boy . . .  
  
Ron had seen the softer side of Malfoy, however. He didn't believe him to be that sort of person anymore. He didn't see him as a heartless, rich brat now. He saw him as - as the beautifully neglected soul that he was.  
  
The door creaked open and footsteps rang out against the chipped tile walls and floor. He prayed it wasn't Draco - or Harry - and watched through the cracks between the door of the stall and its lock.  
  
The footsteps receded, and Ron let out a long sigh of relief. And in a moment of horror and amazement, the door of his toilet swung open loudly and there stood -  
  
"Hermione?" She seemed disheveled and frantic.  
  
"Ron!" she cried, stepping into the toilet and clutching at the sweeping sleeves of his roves. "Oh, Ron, thank goodness! Come on, we've got to hurry - "  
  
"Hurry where?" She stopped cold, looking at him with a blank sort of shock.  
  
"For the past seventeen minutes Draco Malfoy has been swearing at the Guardian Portrait outside of Gryffendor common room to let him in," she huffed, dropping his sleeve and crossing her arms. "He's been calling out for you for as long as that - he's gone mad, I tell you."  
  
Ron's mind went blank as his face blanched substantially. Hermione sniffed, then grimaced.  
  
"And have you been into the polyjuice? It smells terrible in here . . . " A scarlet hue flushed over his ears, and she rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ron, hurry, will you? They've called for Professor McGonagall - they'll murder him if you don't sort this mess out!"  
  
Ron got to his feet as slowly as Hermione's nagging would allow and followed her through the corridors. Despite the fact that he would be punished if McGonagall got to him first, the redhead couldn't seem to make himself move any faster. It was only when they rounded the corner to see Malfoy brandishing his wand menacingly at the prefects of Gryffendor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw that it dawned on him how stubborn a Malfoy could be.  
  
***  
  
With Hermione's stealing an invisibility cloak, Fred and George's brief overview of a trio of possible passages leading quickly away from the Gryffendor common room, and Ginny's influence on the prefects, Ron and Draco managed to escape the absurd situation Mafloy had caused. They crouched, side by side, in a small tunnel behind a cupboard in a classroom nearby, silent as snow.  
  
In Draco's mind he relived the precious few moments with Harry, savoring the taste of Potter's flesh on his own; beside him, Ron buried himself in humility, quivering with embarrassment.  
  
After a long moment of pressing stillness, Draco glanced at the redhead with concern.  
  
"Are you all right, Ron?" he said softly, his hand brushing over Ron's knee. But Ron shied away slightly, wincing at his touch, and nodded severely.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
Very slowly, it dawned on Malfoy. Everything fit together so perfectly - why hadn't he seen it before? Harry's shy silence behind the tapestry - his mended seam on the collar of a hand-me-down robe - the flash of brilliant red hair as he had disappeared around the corner - Ron's tear-stained cheeks and abnormally introverted behaviors now - Hermione's last words before they had disappeared beneath the cloak -  
  
He gasped softly, but Ron didn't hear because of his stifled sobs. In a split-second decision, Malfoy leaned close, pressing his lips to Ron's pale and tear-stained skin.  
  
*** 


	4. Twice Ron

***  
  
Ron's POV again - more fun for me - and (I think) the second to last chapter in this little melodrama. Therefore, I bid you make haste! The story awaits!  
  
***  
  
When he asked me to tell him what was wrong, I ignored him. His lips attempting to mend my tears, however, convinced me otherwise, though I still took a few moments before saying anything in response.  
  
"Malfoy," I said, hesitating slightly. I looked at him through blurred eyes. "I-I used the polyjuice potion tonight. It wasn't Harry - it was me." Every word seemed to make me stronger. "I was the one who kissed you behind the tapestry."  
  
***  
  
Late that night, we were still in hiding. As always, Malfoy appeared unmoved by anything I had said, but I was still convinced that my confession had impacted him by the way he had gathered me into his arms and continued to stroke my hair, even now. My head was in his lap, spinning, and with one hand I clutched his robes.  
  
I had reverted to a child over ten years younger than I, but with Draco holding my hand and soothing my broken soul, I didn't mind.  
  
I hadn't even realized that, after a while, he had begun to sing softly under his breath to pass the time before Hermione sent for us. My mind was too blurred with fatigue to make out the words he sang, but it was comforting and lulled me into an even drowsier state.  
  
When I woke some time later, Draco was brushing his fingers over my cheeks and saying my name in a low voice. At the entrance of the tunnel, the twins snickered openly as they held the door open for us. I allowed myself to be helped to my feet by Malfoy and ignored my brothers' stupid remarks coolly.  
  
Hermione was relieved to see us both looking well, other than tinged with dust from our hiding place, and, though puzzled over how exactly we had become so close and what our friendship was, exactly, she allowed us to say goodbye in an empty alcove. She had scolded the twins severely, who retreated into the Gryffendor common room sulkily, and Draco wrapped his arms around me in the silence of the corridor.  
  
"Should we tell them?" he murmured into my ear. I sighed, shook my head decidedly.  
  
"Not at first," I said, "No." He nodded and pulled away, his hand still clutching mine.  
  
His face was lined with worry; so when he said, "Go to sleep," I knew I had to listen or he would never get his own rest. He grinned then, and patted my rear with his free hand. "You need your beauty sleep to look as good as I do."  
  
***  
  
I wrestled with myself that night. Malfoy obviously wanted me at some level, and I certainly wanted him more than anything - I turned into Harry for him, didn't I? However, it was awkward with his bargain hanging over our heads.  
  
And if, indeed, he was only indulging my fantasies in some sick and twisted plot to get Harry; if, indeed, he was the conniving Draco Malfoy I had known since first year; if, indeed, I was not meant for someone of his noble stature, then I wanted to know now. I wanted to understand what I was getting into before I was hurt, and that way I wouldn't look back and beat myself up for not seeing it.  
  
I knew that I would get hurt. You can't love without being hurt. You can't be happy without it all dissipating at some point.  
  
I wondered about Malfoy, as well. How can someone simply give up the pursuit of something he wanted so much, just for the happiness of a friend? For the happiness of me? It was not something Malfoy would do, any Slytherin, for that matter.  
  
And what if Harry caught wind of this deal we'd made? What if he found out that I'd been in on a plan to seduce him for Malfoy? The thought of losing my best friend sickened me.  
  
I retreated to the bathroom, leaning against the cool stone walls and porcelain of the towel and toilet paper racks. Moonlight was haunting me, streaming through the thin window and digging into my vision. The moonlight made everything appear to clear and clean that it cut my eyes; I wrenched my sight to my knees folded before my face and blinked back tears.  
  
At first, when the owl lighted on the windowsill, I had thought I was hallucinating. I blinked again, and decided that it was not some figment of my imagination, but there was truly a bird staring, with unblinking amber eyes, gazing down at me. It was intimidating, large and black, with a hooked beak the same charcoal grey of his gleaming talons. Tied to its leg was a small roll of parchment sealed with a familiar length of blood-red ribbon.  
  
I shoved myself away from the wall, gingerly untying the parchment, and watched the owl until it took wing and was gone. I gaped at the empty sill for a moment longer, the image of the beautiful blue owl seared into my mind.  
  
Settling back onto the gritty floor, I untied the letter, laying the ribbon aside.  
  
  
  
Ron -  
  
I believe that this is an appropriate time to give this to you. You deserve it; you earned it.  
  
Draco  
  
PS - I supposed now I should apply for the post of prefect for Gryffendor, then?  
  
  
  
It was a very detailed work, a miniature key to every exam and homework assignment Snape would ever assign in his Potions class until seventh year. Once before Draco had given me the answers to an exam, but that had been a mere quiz - if Hermione saw this, she would go mental.  
  
I tucked it away, behind a loose stone in the wall I had discovered second year and in which kept everything secret. I would use it later, when Snape had assigned a very difficult essay or exam.  
  
The ribbon I kept with me, and tied to my wrist in a clumsy bow. Such an elegant thing should not have been given to me, a bumbling, poor boy, I thought bitterly. But a moment passed and I forgot about the ribbon, because once again the great blue own had come to rest on the windowsill.  
  
It appeared perturbed that it should have been sent out twice in the middle of the night for the likes of me, but allowed me to safely take the new parchment from its sharp talons. This letter was smaller, thinner, than the last. But I did not read it until I had given the blue owl a bit of sausage I had been saving for Pig. He seemed content with this and left me to my reading.  
  
  
  
Sykes has come back without my last letter, which I take to mean you're still awake. I thought I told you to get your beauty sleep? No matter; if you're up to it, meet me behind the tapestry within a quarter of an hour's time. If you aren't there, I won't hold it against you, nor will I send any more owls. I understand if you want to be alone right now.  
  
Draco  
  
PS - If you decide not to join me this evening, please consider breakfast tomorrow morning instead? You choose the time, the place. Just send that bit of fluff you call an owl down to me and I'll have things prepared.  
  
PPS - Get some sleep.  
  
  
  
I smiled to myself. He really does worry about me. He really does care.  
  
The thought that he was sincerely looking out for me was enough to calm my ailing stomach, and I crept back into the main room of the dormitory once the two letters were safely stowed within the secret place in the wall. I summoned Pig silently and quickly scrawled a note to Draco.  
  
Once the little owl was on his way, I crawled into my four-poster, drew the curtains, and fell quickly to sleep.  
  
*** 


	5. Twice Draco

***  
  
I'm expecting this to finish off the plot. Maybe an epilogue if the demands are great enough and if the situation calls for it. We're back in the mind of Draco, now, and the end draws near.  
  
Ah, and while I'm thinking about it, as usual, Ron's casual spelling is intentional. Like I need to tell you.  
  
***  
  
The message was brought to me by a tiny little puff of an owl. I had not expected Ron to come to meet with me tonight; he really did need the sleep, and I was not going to be a dictator about all of this.  
  
The little dear upturned his heart on me tonight. He's so precious, the way he worries about what will happen next. He shouldn't; I won't hurt him physically or mentally. Abuse is so underrated these days; I've lived to see it and won't put anyone else through it, Ron especially.  
  
It is a bit difficult to simply push Harry aside, but for Ron, I will try my hardest. He's too marvelous to ruin like that.  
  
I sent Pigwidgeon back to the Gryffendor tower once I had untied the hasty letter from his tiny claw and fed him my last bit of candy from the most recent trip to Hogsmeade, then settled into my bed to read it in peace. The great louts in my dormitory were snoring and whatnot, so I took refuge in a shadowed corner of the common room.  
  
  
  
Can't come tonite - tomorrow morning sounds lovely, how's ten in the alcove behind Prof. Flitwick's office?  
  
Ron  
  
  
  
I smiled; his ideas are always the best. I collected my things from the common room and towed them all into the dormitory, then slipped into bed, though I was not tired in the least.  
  
Earlier this evening I had learned from Hermione in a long owl sent to me after returning to the Slytherin common room that Professor McGonagall had arrived just after we had left the scene. Ginny had done a marvelous job flirting with the prefects, because they hadn't breathed a word to old McGonagall. Suspicious, however, she had searched the dormitories, demanded to know where Ron was after hours; Hermione, for once in her life, lied to a professor and told her that Ron had gone to visit Hagrid for advice on his Care of Magical Creatures lesson.  
  
She must have bought it, because Hagrid wasn't bothered and she had no more questions for them.  
  
Snape had raised an eyebrow when I arrived back well after midnight, but said nothing; he understood that I would tell him at a later point if it was really important. My father has been paying him off for years to see that I get in as little trouble as possible with the school. So far it's been working - though Snape truly is a fast friend despite the twenty years' difference between us.  
  
Eventually, thoughts of the evening melted into thoughts of Ron, and sometime within the early morning hours, I fell asleep.  
  
***  
  
At ten o'clock the next morning, I was waiting in the Flitwick alcove with a picnic basket hovering at my side. I had gone to the kitchens at sunrise to collect the items I knew to be Ron's favorite, and the basket was now brimming with sweets and breakfast foods.  
  
Ten past the hour, Ron arrived. He was disheveled, breathing heavily and flushed within his wrinkled robes, his hair flying hither and thither with static. He looked marvelous.  
  
"Sorry I'm late," he muttered, taking a seat on the stereotypically checked blanket I'd spread over the dusty floor. "Seamus was taking up the bathroom for almost an hour before he - "  
  
I kissed him. Never before had a kiss tasted so sweet; his breath was like toothpaste and orange juice, but pleasant. He broke the kiss, turning his head shyly and blushing from the tips of his ears to his chin.  
  
"I thought we were here for breakfast," he murmured. He blushed even darker, ducking into the collar of his robes as though he wanted to escape. "Not that I'm complaining." I grinned oafishly.  
  
I then set about to setting up the food. With a flick of my wand, the plates, chalices, silver, and napkins placed themselves perfectly on the blanket, followed by dishes of steaming and aromatic foods.  
  
"Peach marmalade!" He glowed, the blush fading rapidly. "And brown-sugared pancakes! Oh, Draco!" My heart skipped; he was so happy, I wanted to see this all the time, never let go of this feeling of utter joy. He dug in, but I simply watched. He had a certain grace about him, despite the manner in which he managed the spill the pumpkin juice I'd brought him and break a chalice. He was adorable.  
  
***  
  
After a painfully long and draining autumn, the Earth was at long last allowing the heavens to kiss her feet with snow. In the secluded corner of the courtyard, I waited for him; and, after what seemed like an eternity, the redhead arrived. Snow was sticking in his brilliant hair in fat, wet flakes, and great clumps clung to his eyelashes.  
  
He didn't seem surprised to see me waiting for him, but came silently to the gargoyle and would not allow me to kiss the snow from his lashes.  
  
"Malfoy," he said, his voice loud but oddly muffled against the grey backdrop of sky and stone. "Draco. I'm not sure if - "  
  
This came as no surprise; however, it hurt as nothing I have ever felt had. Someone in his house (the twins - Hermione - Harry?) had stumbled upon one of our secret rendezvous points. Someone knew of the bargain we had made such a short while ago. I didn't want to see it all end, but what could I do?  
  
"If - " he couldn't seem to find the words to say what he was thinking. Before I could stop myself, the silver, cold part of my overtook the rest, and I turned away from his pale eyes.  
  
I would hurt him before he hurt me. I would not let a Weasley win this, not without a proper Malfoy fight.  
  
"We shouldn't be doing this," my mouth said, while my heart and my mind and my soul screamed out for me to stop. "We shouldn't be together. I don't want - " I couldn't seem to bring myself to finish. He whimpered into the snow, and I choked; for the first time in my life as a Malfoy, my heart had made itself heard over the rest of me.  
  
I forced myself to continue, through gritted teeth. "I don't want - to be hurt by you, Weasley."  
  
He smiled then, rubbed my shoulder through my cloak and heavy robes.  
  
"Then I've held up my end of our little deal," he said quietly, calmly. His eyes were glistening as mine were with the salt of tears.  
  
"What," I gasped. He leaned comfortably back against the gargoyle's stone scales.  
  
"It'll come to you, Malfoy," he said, "It'll come to you."  
  
As the snow continued to fall, professors called us back in to class. I remained on the great fat tail of the gargoyle, watching my breath freeze in the air, and after a moment, Ron stepped down beside me.  
  
His lips brushed mine as he slowly slid past, and I realized with a startled sense of relief that he was crying freely.  
  
And then I was alone in the courtyard, and there I stayed until I was herded inside for class by an irritated Professor Snape.  
  
*** 


End file.
